Maupassant began as a follower of Flaubert and of M. Zola, but, whatever the masters may have called themselves, they both remained essentially _romantiques_. The pupil is the last of the "naturalists": he even destroyed naturalism, since he did all that can be done in that direction. He had no psychology, no theories of art, no moral or strong social prejudices, no disturbing imagination, no wealth of perplexing ideas. It is no paradox to say that his marked limitations made him the incomparable artist that he was. Undisturbed by any external influence, his marvellous vision enabled him to become a supreme observer, and, given his literary sense, the rest was simple. He prided himself in having no invention; he described nothing that he had not seen. The peasants whom he had known as a boy figure in a score of tales; what he saw in Government offices is set down in _L'Héritage_; from Algiers he gathers the material for Maroca; he drinks the waters and builds up _Mont-Oriol_; he enters journalism, constructs _Bel-ami_, and, for the sake of precision, makes his brother, Hervé de Maupassant, sit for the infamous hero's portrait; he sees fashionable society, and, though it wearied him intensely, he transcribes its life in _Fort comme la mort_ and _Notre coeur_. Fundamentally he finds all men alike. In every grade he finds the same ferocious, cunning, animal instincts at work: it is not a gay world, but he knows no other; he is possessed by the dread of growing old, of ceasing to enjoy; the horror of death haunts him like a spectre. It is an extremely simple outlook. Maupassant does not prefer good to bad, one man to another; he never pauses to argue about the meaning of life, a senseless thing which has the one advantage of yielding materials for art; his one aim is to discover the hidden aspect of visible things, to relate what he has observed, to give an objective rendering of it, and he has seen so intensely and so serenely that he is the most exact transcriber in literature. And as the substance is, so is the form: his style is exceedingly simple and exceedingly strong; he uses no rare or superfluous word, and is content to use the humblest word if only it conveys the exact picture of the thing seen. In ten years he produced some thirty volumes. With the exception of _Pierre et Jean_, his novels, excellent as they are, scarcely represent him at his best, and of over two hundred _contes_ a proportion must be rejected. But enough will remain to vindicate his claim to a permanent place in literature as an unmatched observer and the most perfect master of the short story.